Grassy knoll veiled in wondrous moonlight,
Coddles my head, echoes my heartbeat.
Lyre lies cradled on my sleeping chest,
As whispers of silver draw me deep into rest.
Piercing cries wrench me from sweetness of slumber,
As I waken to violence, his unsatisfied hunger.
My breath catches, yet I rise for the fight,
And justice flies swift through blackest of night.
Releasing frightened lamb, no longer his prey,
Her wool stained crimson, bloody; bones disarray.
I weep tears of sorrow, drawing her closer.
Broken and weary, she rests on my shoulders.
An offering of solace, rich comfort of psalms,
Strum of lyre rises, sweet rhythms of calm.
Dappled morning climbs, into fortress of rock,
Waking my warriors, a courageous, fierce flock.
Smacking of battle, courage shouts into bones,
With swords and flexed valor, every enemy groans.
Bonded companions, twister tighter than rope,
Entwined in dysfunction, unraveling hope.
Flaming accusations, their arrows take aim,
My betrayed, anguished soul, crushed deep under blame.
My baritone voice catapults into heaven,
Conflicted, tattered heart, begging for leaven.
Father’s fragrant love, a balm to my pain,
Therapeutic honey, tastes sweeter than rain.
Vociferation melts, into cadence of song,
A grace-filled melody, forgiveness of wrong.